


The Show

by Cliophilyra



Series: Prompt Challenge 2019 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Revelations, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 05:23:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20109832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cliophilyra/pseuds/Cliophilyra
Summary: Dean Winchester is all about the ladies - isn’t he?





	The Show

**Author's Note:**

> For a one word prompt from my Mum! The word was Show.

The restroom door slams. Dean looks over from his attempts to feed coins into the ancient condom machine to see his brother glaring at him with his arms folded.

“Why do you always do this?” Sam hisses, his voice low.

Dean frowns and turns back to the machine. “No glove, no love Sammy,” he says with a grin.

“Don’t be obtuse. You know what I mean. This...this…_show_. Who is it even for these days? God knows I don’t care.”

Dean rattles the little vending drawer, trying to force it open. “What show? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Really?” Sam’s voice is raised now. “You’re just gonna pretend you have no idea what I’m talking about?”

Dean gives up on the machine, slamming a hand against it in frustration and turns on his brother. “Yeah Sam, I am. Because _I have no freakin’ idea what you’re talking about_!”

“Fuck you. I can see it, he can see it. There are people on the international fucking space station who can see it!”

“See what?!”

“Oh God, where to start! The way you look at him when you think no one’s watching? The way he fucking _lights up_when you smile at him? The murderous look you gave that bartender when she smiled at him? I don’t know - name a fucking rom-com cliche.”

“Wha--?” Dean starts.

Sam snaps, advancing on him angrily. He shoves him against the grimy white tiles, a hand on his chest. “Do _not_ say ‘what’ again! You _know_ what! How many years has it been you asshole? He looks at you, you look at him. He saves you, you save him. You leave him, he leaves you! Then every now and again you finally get to a place where you seem...I don’t know, comfortable? Like you might even...But it always, _always_ comes right back to this! Friday night in some shitty dive watching you play Dean Winchester: Over-compensator Extraordinaire. Chasing tail like a horny teenager while I try and make conversation and pretend not to notice how sad you both are. Every. Fucking. Time!” he yells, jabbing Dean’s chest for emphasis. 

Dean says nothing, afraid of what might come out if he opens his mouth now. He sets his jaw and glares, eyes glassy and fixed. His hands flex at his sides as visions of punching his brother flit over his mind.

“Do you even know her fucking name? Tell me her name and I won’t say another word.” 

“_Fuck you_.” Dean growls. He shoves his brother out of the way and storms out of the bathroom and out of the bar, ignoring the blonde at the bar who turns to him as he passes.

***

Outside it’s cold. Wind whistles down the alley following a swirl of dead leaves and trash. Dean faces the wall with his head bowed, cradling the fist he just slammed into the brickwork, catching the blood that drips between his fingers. He is crying. He tells himself it’s from the pain.

“_Fuck_!”

“What are you doing?” a deep voice behind him says.

“Go away Cas,” Dean sighs, screwing his eyes closed. 

“Come here, show me,” Cas says, ignoring his words and moving closer. He reaches for Dean’s hand carefully. Dean looks down at where their hands meet as Cas turns it over in his own.

“No!” Dean snaps, pulling his hand back, wincing at the pain. “Get out of here Cas. I’m not...I can’t…”

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s ok, just a scratch. Leave it.”

“It’s broken,” Cas says and takes his hand again, firm but gentle. Dean tries to pull it away but now there’s angelic force behind the strength that prevents him. He sighs in resignation and lets Cas run his thumb over his swollen knuckles. His hand tingles with the familiar warmth of Cas’ grace suffusing his skin and bone. He swallows hard, finds his mouth dry and almost chokes. Cas just looks down, intent on his healing as Dean’s split skin and bones knit and his skin smoothes, until the drops of blood are the only evidence. He swipes at the drops of blood with his thumb and the whole thing is gone. No pain, no scars. “Better?” he asks.

Dean stares at his hand in silence and nods once. Cas nods in reply and then turns away, back towards the bar. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Cas turns back to look at him. His head is cocked to the side like a curious bird. Dean wishes he knew why he had said those words aloud, and what exactly he planned to say next. 

“What for?” Cas asks.

“Just...for everything I guess. All of it.” Dean says, scrubbing his hands over his face. 

“There’s nothing to apologise for.”

“I--” Dean begins and then stops.

“Sam had no right to say those things,” Cas says. “It’s none of his business.”

Dean looks at him sharply, his breath catching in his throat. He swallows again. “I--” he can’t get the words out, they stick to his dry tongue. 

Cas nods. “It’s ok Dean. I know you don’t…” he falters for a second and then smiles. “Come on, come back in. She’s waiting for you.”

Dean gives a sharp laugh. Is that what he really thinks Dean wants? “Yeah, not really in the mood now Cas,” he says, sounding harsher than he meant to. 

“Come inside,” Cas repeats, beckoning. 

Dean almost follows, then stops. “He’s right,” he says. “It’s a show man, it’s all just a fucking show.”

Cas looks wary, his eyes squint slightly. He doesn’t speak so Dean closes his eyes and ploughs on, focusing on a spot somewhere inside his own head. “Every time. Every time I think maybe....maybe I--you...Then I find myself back here, back at the fucking start putting on the same show, playing the same fucking part I’ve been playing my whole fucking life. Because...” Dean tails off, heart thumping, words drying up. 

“Because?” Cas prompts him quietly. 

“Because I’m fucking scared man. I’m so scared. Because this is who I am, who I’ve always been. I don’t know how to be anyone else, any other way. These feelings, this voice in the back of my head that says ‘you’re wrong, there’s something wrong with you’ that’s been there so long I can’t imagine what it would be like without it. Who would I be if I just woke up one day and it was gone? If I admit that there’s nothing wrong with me and I can just have what the hell I want, be who the hell I want? It terrifies me Cas.”

“You would be you. Because you do know it, deep down. I know you do. You just have to accept it.”

“But that’s the hard part isn’t it?”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Everything. I’m afraid it’s too late, that I’ve wasted my fucking life on this bullshit so why give up now. I’m afraid I won’t be me anymore - whatever that even means - and I’m afraid of what other people will think, that they’ll treat me differently. I’m afraid of what my dad would have thought, what Mom would have thought, what Sam thinks. I’m afraid of you…”

“Me?”

“You’re a fucking multi-dimensional wavelength of celestial intent - or whatever - and I want...I feel...well yeah. That’s fucking terrifying.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to stop the show Cas. I want to stop playing this part. I’m so tired of it, so fucking sick and tired.”

Cas smiles and reaches out a hand to the side of Dean’s face, sliding his thumb carefully over his cheekbone. Dean’s breath freezes in his chest but he wills himself not to move away, instead raising his eyes to meet Cas’. 

“So let’s stop it. It won’t even be the first time we’ve done that,” Cas whispers as he leans forward. “The whole reason we’re even here today is that you refused to play the part you were literally born to play. You rejected that without a second thought. Remember that. Just because this role is one you’ve cast yourself in, doesn’t mean you can’t reject it in the same way.”

Dean blinks, staring at Cas as if he’s seeing him for the first time. He feels the pricking of the tears that threaten to spill over again but he also feels something spreading through his chest, a revelation so huge and yet so utterly obvious that the odds of crying or laughing hysterically seem pretty even. He has literally never considered their rejection of Heaven’s plan as being in the same ballpark, but now he sees it. He sees how he never really thought twice. He may have had moments where he thought he should go along with it for a whole bunch of reasons, but he never felt that the angel’s were _right_, that it was his only possible path, or that he wouldn’t be himself if he refused to toe the heavenly line. Breaking out of it might not have been a walk in the park but he and Sam had been created, manipulated and bred for those roles, it was in their literal DNA, but they’d still managed to drop them without a backward glance. 

Dean smiles and turns to meet Cas’ lips with his own. The rush of fear and panic is still there, like a greek chorus in his head but there is also joy. Happiness. Relief. Cas gasps and pushes his fingers into Dean’s hair, kissing him harder, then shoves him against the alley wall in a way that reminds Dean of another time, a long time ago, under very different circumstances and he smiles against Cas’ mouth as his back hits the bricks. He grabs a handful of trench-coat with one hand and messy dark hair with the other and pulls him in. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about doing exactly that last time - for at least a split second before the fighting started. Cas groans darkly.

“Dean? Cas?” Sam’s voice echoes down the dark alley. 

Dean glances over to see his brother silhouetted by the neon of the bar sign. He presses his lips to Cas’ ear and whispers, “Exit stage left?” and they’re gone in a flurry of feathers. 

“Assholes,” Sam mutters to himself, but he’s smiling.


End file.
